Text: The New Girl (October 2013)
"So what are we gonna do here?" Monika asked as Sarah parked her parents' SUV outside an abandoned house on Grant Street. The neighborhood was almost all blacked out, with only a few working streetlights. The four girls - Sarah, Tara, Charice and Monika - stepped out and followed a footpath between houses down to Withering Creek. "Oh, the usual," Sarah answered back, "Drink, put on music, mess around. There's like, nothing to do around here besides drink in the creek. Don't tell anyone, though, or the seniors who supply the booze will totally cut us out." Unlike her brother, Monika Cochrane never had much trouble making friends. As much as she hated to leave her life in California, she was taking it all in stride. Within weeks of arriving at Fillmore North, 16-year-old Monika had identified several like-minded girls and guys at her new school and confidently introduced herself. She was not willing to be reduced to an outsider or a wallflower just because she was "new." The trick was to seem humble. She assumed that if she waltzed into the place with an air of self-assurance just because she came from Sacramento - a place that was objectively more interesting and important than Fillmore, Colorado - she would meet hostility, and the natural instinct of these small towners would be to protect their own and take her down as many pegs as they could as quickly as possible. Instead, she decided to play the long game. She arrived on the first day of school and said as little as she could to anyone, but made her presence felt: a sideways glance at a cute boy in the next row of desks in algebra, a friendly nod of recognition as she passed a girl she recognized from art class. But she never pushed herself on them, never even said her own name. She wanted them to come to her, to create curiosity, an interest in what she had to sell: herself as a new addition to the environment, which hadn't welcomed any newcomers in as long as anyone could remember. It was only a few short weeks before Monika had gotten in with a trio of girls: Sarah, Tara and Charice, when Sarah had approached Monika in art class to compliment her sketching. She asked if it was true that Monika had come from LA, and whether Monika knew any celebrities. Monika answered that she was actually from Sacramento, but had met then-governor Schwarzenegger when she was very young. "You're, like, such a nice person," Sarah observed, "I was expecting you to be a total bitch since you're from California, but whatever. You're cool." As they approached, the sound of the party became more clear. The girls lit the way with their cell phones, weaving between trees until a circle of electric torches became visible. About a dozen or so figures could be seen in the shadows, seating in a circle, with afew off to the side. All were passing drinks around. "Hey everybody," Sarah called out, "This is Monika, she's new. She's from California, so you can totally ask her about that." A murmur of greeting arose from the group as Monika took a seat next to a boy. "What's up," he asked. "Not much," she answered, "Just wondering how many of us are gonna die out here. Seriously." "I know, right," the boy said, "Well, I'll protect you." "Oh my God, Jace," Sarah squawked from across the circle, "You're already putting the moves on the new girl? Shameless." "Shut it, Sarah," Jace playfully called back, "She sat next to me, I can do what I want." Over the course of the next two hours, Monika mingled with as many people as she could, but constantly found her glances turning back to Jace, checking to see if he was glancing back at her. One boy, Trig, noticed this behavior, "He's cute, isn't he?" "Huh?" Monika gasped, wide-eyed at being caught. "Don't be embarrassed," Trig said back, "The number of times I've caught myself wishing he was gay, or at least a little curious... hm." "I don't know, I just met him," Monika said, "It's not like... I mean, I'm new here. I don't know if I..." Monika had no exit strategy for that sentence. "That's the dream, though," Trig laughed, "You move to a new place, and the first person you meet is totally perfect for you. I get it." "Right," Monika sighed, "And real life's never like the movies." "I wouldn't say never," Trig shrugged. "You just need to know when to take your shot." Around 3 AM, Monika sneaked as quietly as she could through the back door of her house, tiptoing in through the kitchen only to find her mom emptying the dishwasher. "Late night," Mrs. Cochrane said, raising her brow ever so slightly. Monika stopped in her tracks. "I'm not going to say you can't do that," Lisa sighed in deference, "A text would be nice. It's 2013, so you've got no excuse for a lack of communication. But you're in a new place, with people you don't know well, so you need to be safe... and I need to feel like I know you're safe." "So I'm just supposed to text you where I am all the time?" Monika sneered. "Not all the time," Lisa said, already slightly exasperated, "But 'Hey mom, I'm at so-and-so's place, I'll be barging through the door at 3,' would help me rest easier." "God, mom," Monika said, raising her voice well above a dull roar, "I didn't barge." "Mon, I really do want to be this cool, accepting mom for you," Lisa said in a low tone, "But you have to show me you deserve that treatment. Okay?" "Whatever," Monika said as she stomped upstairs to her room. "Don't give me 'whatever!' My generation invented 'whatever!'" Lisa called after her daughter, grunting in exasperation. Monika forcefully shut the door to her room and took out her sketch pad. She closed her eyes and tried to remember every detail of Jace's appearance - not easy to assimilate in torchlit party atmosphere, especially only being able to look back at him for a fraction of a second, but she started to move her pencil across the page, and when she stopped, she saw a boy looking up at her, smiling like he had a secret. Like he wanted her. Category:Text